He jumped off the balcony, throwing himself head first under the railings. Landing knees bent, he managed; just about; to stay upright. His shoulder was still bleeding from the glancing blow it had received from a disruptor blast, and he gritted his teeth through the pain as he continued to run between the storage tanks toward the large roller door that was his escape route.
Suddenly, there was not just heavy footsteps behind him; Cardassian feet slamming into the metallic floor, but Cardassians in front of him. Where the hell had they come from. He didn’t need to look down at his PHASER belt to know that he didn’t have enough charge left to knock them all over, not even set at light stun.
As he considered his options, he was tackled form behind. He felt the crunch as Cardassian body armour hit his calves, and the unmistakeable stench that followed Cardassians around everywhere. His face slammed into the floor. Before he had time to think, he was lifted, and thrown back down, this time onto his back. He let out a brief groan, silenced by a boot to his gut. The dispenser of the kick snarled something; but it was too quick for his universal translator earpiece to catch. He could guess though… Now, more scaly hands all over him, angular armour digging into him. Just when he thought they might have had enough of roughing him up, there was another kick; this time to the side of his head.
Opening his eyes, unsure of how much time had passed, he shook the haziness out of his eyes, but no amount of shaking could have cleared the dull ache just behind his eyes. On his tongue he could taste his blood, viscous, metallic. Trying to crane his head up, he could see two soldiers practically sitting on each limb, and one with his foot on his chest. Then, out of nowhere appeared a rather grandly bearded Gul, armour shining, teeth glinting and a perverse smile playing across his lips.
“Ah, Commander Bond, we have been expecting you.”
***
Golar IV was the sixteenth planet orbiting a rather large star, yet its distance still left it a lifeless, snowy and icy wilderness. Life consisted of molluscs, deep below the frozen surface of the planet’s oceans, and a menagerie of animals all adapted to the frozen wasteland of their home. That was until the arrival of the Cardassians in 2360. The Union had built a small research station on an icy precipice. Here, long unknown to the Federation, they began researching, and attempting to produce what later would become known as ‘Red Matter’.
His three day journey had begun deep in the demilitarised zone, in the forward hold of a converted Andorian freighter. Rather than carrying Federation standard shipping containers, the freighters hold had been converted to a basic torpedo launching bay. Rising early after a eight day journey from a frontier trading outpost, he had been loaded (or, as he preferred, had got dressed into…) a torpedo casing that itself was modified with the addition of a small warp ‘kicker’, or sustainer engine. The freighter had then ramped up to its modest top speed of Warp four, before releasing the torpedo, launching it toward the target. Meanwhile, the freighter had pulled out all the stops and hightailed it back to the comparative safety of the Federation borderlands.
Cramped inside his torpedo casing, he was also trussed up in an orbital sky-diving suit. Throughout his journey, the transparent aluminium of his facemask pushed up against his nose, making rest of any kind, other than ten minute catnaps, impossible. The only real succour he had for the journey was a small straw that he could drink water through, and a ‘lick strip’ on the facemask, which gave him all the essential vitamins and minerals to keep him alive. The first two days did pass quite quickly; but the third, no matter how many times he hummed songs to himself, tried to sleep, the hours seemed to crawl past.
He was jolted into action by the darkness of the casing being replaced with a flashing blue light from his wrist computer. That was an indicator to tell him that the longest part of his journey was now over. He twisted his wrist, and firmly pushed his thumb into his palm. With this, and an explosive crack inches from his head, the two halves of the torpedo casing began to separate.
As the casings continues to move away from each other, a quick glance over his shoulder showed the sustainer engine; heavy, hot, and extremely explosive; tumbling harmlessly away from him. Now leaning forward, the manoeuvring thrusters on his backpack and in his boots rattled reassuringly. His destination now filled his vision. The inertia from the torpedo casings would carry him first into a single looping orbit before all his speed bled away and he was plunged into the atmosphere. The whole descent; including the orbit; would take just over an hour. If everything went well, especially the atmospheric descent, then he would find himself a thirty minute walk through a dark morning from his target. If not, he could either be thrown out into space; which with his supply of oxygen would leave him dead by tomorrow; or end up in the middle of nowhere on a frozen planet. Without any survival equipment or location equipment, even if he could survive long enough, his lift home would certainly not find him!
***
The last few thousand feet of descent were mainly face down, but seconds before landing his ballute snapped him upright. Before he’d even had chance to process that information there was a crump as his feet hit the snow. Within a second he was knee, and then waist deep. Despite this, instantaneously he snapped into action. With a roll he pulled his ballute toward him, whilst unclipping his harness from round his waist. The ballute, now deflated, was buried in snow, topped by his burnt, chalky, re-entry suit. Over his shoulder he slung the rucksack which he had been lying on in the torpedo over his shoulder, and his back twinged as if in memory. The bag was packed with a Type-II PHASER, and it’s associated ‘Riot Gun’ attachment that had been rejected as unsuitable by Starfleet Tactical but proved perfect for clandestine operations. The three most important things; other than the ration packs, he mused, as his belly rumbled; were the small photonic charges, nestled at the bottom. Digging himself out of the snow, and pulling the hood of his jumpsuit over his face, he began the trek to his destination.
***
I found this on my old computer. If I recall correctly, I wrote this just after I heard the theme for 'Quantum of Solace' the first time. I still love the song, even if I did play it almost a hundred times. The 'Red Matter', which obv is a rip off from JJTrek, replaced some badly defined, completely none threatening subspace weapon.
Sorry, I'm not sure why I put Part One, because there is only this part; the rest of it I'm sure is on the back of envelopes and in notebooks somewhere...
Hope you enjoy.
R.
Suddenly, there was not just heavy footsteps behind him; Cardassian feet slamming into the metallic floor, but Cardassians in front of him. Where the hell had they come from. He didn’t need to look down at his PHASER belt to know that he didn’t have enough charge left to knock them all over, not even set at light stun.
As he considered his options, he was tackled form behind. He felt the crunch as Cardassian body armour hit his calves, and the unmistakeable stench that followed Cardassians around everywhere. His face slammed into the floor. Before he had time to think, he was lifted, and thrown back down, this time onto his back. He let out a brief groan, silenced by a boot to his gut. The dispenser of the kick snarled something; but it was too quick for his universal translator earpiece to catch. He could guess though… Now, more scaly hands all over him, angular armour digging into him. Just when he thought they might have had enough of roughing him up, there was another kick; this time to the side of his head.
Opening his eyes, unsure of how much time had passed, he shook the haziness out of his eyes, but no amount of shaking could have cleared the dull ache just behind his eyes. On his tongue he could taste his blood, viscous, metallic. Trying to crane his head up, he could see two soldiers practically sitting on each limb, and one with his foot on his chest. Then, out of nowhere appeared a rather grandly bearded Gul, armour shining, teeth glinting and a perverse smile playing across his lips.
“Ah, Commander Bond, we have been expecting you.”
***
Golar IV was the sixteenth planet orbiting a rather large star, yet its distance still left it a lifeless, snowy and icy wilderness. Life consisted of molluscs, deep below the frozen surface of the planet’s oceans, and a menagerie of animals all adapted to the frozen wasteland of their home. That was until the arrival of the Cardassians in 2360. The Union had built a small research station on an icy precipice. Here, long unknown to the Federation, they began researching, and attempting to produce what later would become known as ‘Red Matter’.
His three day journey had begun deep in the demilitarised zone, in the forward hold of a converted Andorian freighter. Rather than carrying Federation standard shipping containers, the freighters hold had been converted to a basic torpedo launching bay. Rising early after a eight day journey from a frontier trading outpost, he had been loaded (or, as he preferred, had got dressed into…) a torpedo casing that itself was modified with the addition of a small warp ‘kicker’, or sustainer engine. The freighter had then ramped up to its modest top speed of Warp four, before releasing the torpedo, launching it toward the target. Meanwhile, the freighter had pulled out all the stops and hightailed it back to the comparative safety of the Federation borderlands.
Cramped inside his torpedo casing, he was also trussed up in an orbital sky-diving suit. Throughout his journey, the transparent aluminium of his facemask pushed up against his nose, making rest of any kind, other than ten minute catnaps, impossible. The only real succour he had for the journey was a small straw that he could drink water through, and a ‘lick strip’ on the facemask, which gave him all the essential vitamins and minerals to keep him alive. The first two days did pass quite quickly; but the third, no matter how many times he hummed songs to himself, tried to sleep, the hours seemed to crawl past.
He was jolted into action by the darkness of the casing being replaced with a flashing blue light from his wrist computer. That was an indicator to tell him that the longest part of his journey was now over. He twisted his wrist, and firmly pushed his thumb into his palm. With this, and an explosive crack inches from his head, the two halves of the torpedo casing began to separate.
As the casings continues to move away from each other, a quick glance over his shoulder showed the sustainer engine; heavy, hot, and extremely explosive; tumbling harmlessly away from him. Now leaning forward, the manoeuvring thrusters on his backpack and in his boots rattled reassuringly. His destination now filled his vision. The inertia from the torpedo casings would carry him first into a single looping orbit before all his speed bled away and he was plunged into the atmosphere. The whole descent; including the orbit; would take just over an hour. If everything went well, especially the atmospheric descent, then he would find himself a thirty minute walk through a dark morning from his target. If not, he could either be thrown out into space; which with his supply of oxygen would leave him dead by tomorrow; or end up in the middle of nowhere on a frozen planet. Without any survival equipment or location equipment, even if he could survive long enough, his lift home would certainly not find him!
***
The last few thousand feet of descent were mainly face down, but seconds before landing his ballute snapped him upright. Before he’d even had chance to process that information there was a crump as his feet hit the snow. Within a second he was knee, and then waist deep. Despite this, instantaneously he snapped into action. With a roll he pulled his ballute toward him, whilst unclipping his harness from round his waist. The ballute, now deflated, was buried in snow, topped by his burnt, chalky, re-entry suit. Over his shoulder he slung the rucksack which he had been lying on in the torpedo over his shoulder, and his back twinged as if in memory. The bag was packed with a Type-II PHASER, and it’s associated ‘Riot Gun’ attachment that had been rejected as unsuitable by Starfleet Tactical but proved perfect for clandestine operations. The three most important things; other than the ration packs, he mused, as his belly rumbled; were the small photonic charges, nestled at the bottom. Digging himself out of the snow, and pulling the hood of his jumpsuit over his face, he began the trek to his destination.
***
I found this on my old computer. If I recall correctly, I wrote this just after I heard the theme for 'Quantum of Solace' the first time. I still love the song, even if I did play it almost a hundred times. The 'Red Matter', which obv is a rip off from JJTrek, replaced some badly defined, completely none threatening subspace weapon.
Sorry, I'm not sure why I put Part One, because there is only this part; the rest of it I'm sure is on the back of envelopes and in notebooks somewhere...
Hope you enjoy.
R.
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